It’s Story Time with the Lime Juice Boys! Chapter 4: A New Threat

lackjack and Ribley hushed each other simultaneously.

“Shhh!” Blackjack lifted a finger to his mouth.

“No, you shhhh!” mimicked Ribley.

“Gahhh!” said Blackjack softly and barely containable.

They both cocked their heads as the murmured orders of a box squatter to another were barely audible. Blackjack contorted his face, squinting and wincing, straining to hear words. With a smirk on his face, Ribley opened an adjacent chest drawer and grabbed an already-made sandwich: a thick slice of turkey ham between two pieces of black bread dressed with wasabi mustard. Blackjack was furious.

“There’s no wrong time for you to be stuffing your face, is there?” asked Blackjack.

“Not even when I’m sleeping,” replied Ribley, pointing his sandwich at Blackjack for emphasis.

“Wow. Okay, well do something with that, will you. Like finish it. Or better yet, put it down. Let’s go get my ship back.”

Ribley took another bite of his sandwich, slowly, and stared wide-eyed at Blackjack.

“Ugh,” said Blackjack, his shoulders now slumped. “Alright, you and the sandwich, come on!”

The two pirates stepped onto the stairs leading up from the hold. The boards creaked as they peeked over the top step. One of the box squatters had his hands on the wheel while the other motioned toward something off the port side. Their two spearguns leaned against the rail, easily within their grasp.

Blackjack looked back at Ribley and winked. Ribley reciprocated the sign with a giant grin and an exaggerated nod. A piece of bread fell from his mouth.

“Ugh,” groaned Blackjack.

He drew his sword, stepped onto the deck and approached the helm undetected.

“FREEZE!”

Ribley froze.

Blackjack spun around.

The men on the pier awaiting the return of their stolen rum had spotted the culprits and lowered their spearguns. The Clamdigger was closer to returning than Blackjack had thought. Ribley took the last bite of his sandwich and wiped the side of his mouth with his sleeve.

Knowing their cover was blown, Blackjack turned back to the direction of the men behind the Clamdigger’s controls. He charged. The man not steering the boat grabbed his speargun and fired. A surge of electricity blasted toward Blackjack, who adjusted the angle of his blade to absorb the current. His sword momentarily turned blue and sizzled. Still with his forward momentum, and all in a swift, agile move, Blackjack sliced the speargun in half, spun full circle, and proceeded toward the helm. With his speargun out of reach the man released the wheel and drew his sword.

Dropping his destroyed weapon, the man looked up just in time to see the knife in Ribley’s hand pierce his leg. Ribley kept hold of the handle and grinned. And pressed.

At the wheel, steel clashed.

Blackjack was in his element and toyed with his foe, out-matched without the advanced weaponry of the electrified speargun. But just as Blackjack reared back for the finishing blow, his enemy yanked the Clamdigger’s throttle back and spun the wheel. The boat carved starboard and shuddered to a crawl. Blackjack lost his balance and crashed to the deck, his sword falling from his grasp.

Losing his own balance, Ribley let go of his knife and couldn’t stop himself from falling over the side railing. His victim howled as he extracted the blade from his leg. As blood dripped onto the deck, he approached the rail to see Ribley hanging on. Raising the long knife above his head he slammed the blade down. Ribley released his hand from the rail. Wood shattered. He dangled precariously.

“Nice try,” said the man, extracting the blade. He raised the knife again.

First Ape jumped from the top of the smokestack and onto the head of Ribley’s attacker. He clawed at eyes, ears and swung his head around to bite the man’s nose, who thrashed the knife in all directions. First Ape was fast enough to avoid the blood-stained blade.

“Ooook!” shouted First Ape. He dug his claws into the man’s neck.

Ribley bent his knees, pushed his feet against the Clamdigger’s hull and flipped up back onto the deck. First Ape jumped off as Ribley grabbed the man by his hair and tossed him overboard.

“Nice work, Apey,” said Ribley. First Ape raised his hand. Ribley didn’t leave him hanging.

Blackjack was in a choke hold, his throat being squeezed shut. He tried to reach for the steering wheel but just missed. Instead he threw his head back and heard the breaking of bone and cartilage. The grip loosened. Blackjack kicked the throttle forward and the Clamdigger surged, knocking him and the man into the steering wheel. Free from his grasp, Blackjack reclaimed his sword and sliced the man’s throat.

“Oook eeek!” shouted First Ape.

Blackjack turned and ducked just in time to avoid a shot of electricity. The men on the pier had opened fire. Blackjack increased the throttle and turned his boat toward them. The Clamdigger swiped the pier, smashing the wooden planks into splinters. Blackjack swung the boat away and chugged out to sea.

“Did you really have to do that?” asked Ribley.

“What, ram the pier? It was the best option,” grumbled Blackjack. The Clamdigger motored closer toward the Docks.

“No, cut that guy open.”

“I did what I had to do and nothing more,” said Blackjack. “Get the crates ready. It’s already late.”

Ribley started toward the hold. He paused.

“Blackjack, where did they get those spearguns? I hadn’t seen those before. Ever.”

“Me either, Ribs. Rum running just got a lot harder.”